I started this blog when my husband and I were expecting our first child to document my pregnancy and warn people of all the things nobody tells you about. Then it followed our family's journey through secondary infertility. It turns out I forgot as much as I learned. One might think that motherhood has softened me...
One would be wrong.

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Tuesday, March 13, 2012

I guess it's better than limbo

Yesterday I heard the words every expectant mother dreads: "I'm sorry, you've had a miscarriage." On a positive note (?) it seems Mother Nature took care of everything for me so I don't need to have yet another surgery. I knew on Friday there was no chance we were bringing home a baby this fall so I had time to get used to the idea before I was sitting in a doctor's office, post-ultrasound, waiting for the final word. It didn't make the news suck any less.

It should take a few weeks for all systems to come back online. With my next cycle, I have to endure another round of waterboarding of the uterus to make sure no permanent damage was done. Assuming we get the all clear, we can start another round of treatments the following cycle. If it works, the odds of a repeat miscarriage aren't any higher than the rest of the population, so there is that. What I did not know until yesterday is that because of maternal age (I'm roughly 100 in reproductive terms), there's already a 35% chance of losing any pregnancy. I'd be lying if I said the thought of going through this again doesn't make me at least a little gun shy.

There is so much that my rational mind completely understands that is a complete mystery to my heart. I know this didn't happen because of anything I did or didn't do. I know there is nothing I could have done to prevent it, or stop it once it started. Because miscarriages early on are usually due to a defect in the embryo or how it implanted, I know it's probably for the best. However, I reserve the right to bludgeon anyone who says that to me thinking it brings any level of comfort. It doesn't.

Now that I've been able to take real meds for the pain I'm feeling much better. Physically. It's the rest of me that's going to need a little more time. I'll go back to the office tomorrow and smile weakly, avoiding eye contact wherever possible. I'll pretend I'm fine, that it doesn't matter. It was early days anyway. Just a blip in our lives, lives that will carry on. I'll put on this show because I have to. I'm not fine, and it does matter. It was early days, but it was enough time to plant a dream. I'm heartbroken, really.

7 comments:

I know the feeling! Of treatments that is. I've never been as successful as actually getting pregnant. But i'm so thankful I didn't because it led us to our son who we adopted. I am a firm believer of things happening for a reason! Don't give up!

My heart hurts a little just reading this, and I don't even know you. I just stumbled into your blog tonight. My heart goes out to you.

My sister had a miscarriage a couple years ago, and I was her designated, "It's not your fault" girl. She called me every couple weeks for about a year, and I'd tell her that it wasn't her fault, she didn't cause it and couldn't fix it, and, thankfully eventually, that she better get ready to take care of the baby on the way.

So:

This isn't your fault. Take time to grieve like you need, not the way others think you should. This is a big deal, let it take up space in your heart for a while.

Just stumbled on your blog.. I feel ya. I had an ectopic pregnancy that ended in January with a very scary ER stay and emergency surgery and it is still hard sometimes even though I try not to show it. I don't know what else to say except.. I feel ya.

Just came across your blog and want to say how very, very sorry I am for you. My heart is breaking for you, for myself and for every single other woman out there that has to go through this. There are just no words that can ever make this feel better.